Melodramatic
by stakeh
Summary: Melodramatic: adjv. [2] exaggerated and emotional or sentimental, sensational or sensationalized, overdramatic. Twenty four themes. Mello. From G to NC17. Various pairings. Spoilers throughout series.
1. Left to the Ghosts

**Theme: **19:00 - Diversity, blending or healing differences, gentle care towards others  
**Title: **Left to the Ghosts  
**Rating: **PG  
**Warnings: **General spoilers apply to Mello's character. Very mild language.  
**Disclaimer:** Death Note © Ohba Tsugumi and Obata Takeshi  
**Summary: **It was hard to deal with something so out of your control it left you gasping for air. But Near didn't know how it felt. Mello and Near friendship/slight fluff.

---

Ever since Watari's announcement between Mello and himself, Mello had resorted to shutting himself up in his room. No one else really knew what to think, and not even Matt could snap him out of it, no matter how many times he banged on the door and demanded entry. He never answered. To put it lightly, a lot of the older children at the orphanage were worried. The one's that had anything to do with Mello. Knew that he didn't exactly have a stable personality. Knew that there had to be _something _wrong.

Near knew well. Knew what was wrong. He knew it without ever having to do anything, because of all the times Mello had thrown himself forward and attempted to be 'the best' (a loose definition, at most), Near was able to derive his own conclusions.

For one, life was about winning and losing. For another, Mello didn't care what he had to do or who he had to step on, but he was going to win. Near couldn't recall a time where Mello had ever been just that – mellow, laid back. After all the time he spent around Matt, you think he'd pick up some of that languor. Maybe Matt was just grounds to keep Mello from _really_ screwing up. If he could get any worse, that is.

But nonetheless, Near was worried. He tried not to be, and even went as far as keeping himself occupied by pulling out a thousand-piece puzzle he'd received just the other day. But his mind kept wandering. Kept worrying.

He didn't know why, though. Shouldn't he resent Mello for never getting past the fact that he was out to get him, even though he really wasn't? Near never had the intention to make him suffer in any way; he just seemed to bring it upon himself without even realizing it. It wasn't healthy, definitely not. But no one could change his mind. He was probably the most determined person Near knew, but then again, Near didn't know very many people well.

Somehow, even with his fingers working mechanically at the puzzle, Near's mind couldn't focus. It took a while, but he eventually managed to build up enough courage to check on Mello himself. Even though he knew the other wouldn't appreciate it in the slightest (especially not after this morning), he had to do it. Couldn't sleep without knowing for certain that Mello hadn't completely flipped out of his mind.

It was sometime around seven when Near finally got to Mello's room, and he made easy work of the lock on the door. Any other day, Near would never dream of doing this, but tonight was a special occasion. Tonight was…tonight was the night that everything had the frightening potential to change. With just a breath of air and a few sharp words, Mello could doom himself to failure forever.

Near couldn't help but want to stop that. So what if Mello hated him? Near didn't despise him, he never had any reason to. Mello created his own reasons, lived off of his own assumptions.

Standing on tip-toe, Near pushed his small body against the door and eventually managed to wedge it open, eyes shadowed in the absence of light as he peered through the threshold, seeking out the familiar form of the other boy. It didn't take too long for him to catch sight of the heap on the mattress across the room.

As he stepped inside, Mello snapped out of his reverie and whipped his head in the direction of the door, eye landing on Near instantly. A scowl cleared the surprised look from his face in a matter of seconds. "You!" he hissed, but Near expected this well ahead. "How did you get in here!"

For a moment, Near couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight of Mello on his knees, hair a mess, eyes bloodshot, and cheeks wet with what must've been tears. Then he found his voice. "Mello—"

But he never got much more out. Near let out a soft startled sound as he ducked the pillow that crashed into the wall above his head, eyes widening. He certainly hadn't been expecting that. Sure, he knew Mello would be mad, but to assault him so directly without any taunting prior was an oddity in itself.

"Get out!" the other boy said, but Near heard his voice crack and that was enough of a heads-up to convince him that he needed to stay just a little while longer.

Near wasn't one of the most empathetic people out there, in all truth. He didn't really understand why Mello was so upset, but then again, he never understood Mello's course of actions from the beginning. How could someone be so careless, letting their emotions control them so recklessly like that?

But even if he never understood, that didn't prevent him from trying to stop Mello from hurting so obviously. L was his idol. L was his dream, his ambition, his drive. And to have that suddenly, so plainly ripped away from him was pain on whole other level that Near would probably never come to terms with.

It was cruel, Near knew, for Mello's dream to be handed over to someone who didn't even care if they got it or not. It was cruel, but it was Mello's fault. It was just a matter of convincing to get him to understand that. But some part of him knew he never would.

"Mello," Near tried again, inching closer, small fingers curling around the hem of his long pajama sleeves. He vaguely remembered the time when Mello picked on him for always wearing a pair of pajamas, and how Mello had nearly ripped the shirt material to pieces when he was feeling particularly vindictive. Such a memory was far away, like a distant echo of what couldn't have been too long ago, and Near only briefly lingered on it.

"Mello," he whispered a third time, but continued to receive no response besides the wrenching sobs that shook the other boy's skeletal frame as he curled in on himself, arms wrapped too tightly around his knees that were pressed roughly against his chest. The position hardly looked comfortable. It was even worse from how Near or even L chose to sit, just going by the way Mello's bones were so sharp, his body so thin yet so strong at the same time. He was probably squeezing the blood right out of his legs.

By the time Near managed to wiggle himself up beside the older boy, Mello's crying had subsided a little bit, reduced to occasional sniffling, but he still refused to raise his head from its stubborn spot against his thighs. Near thought about it for a moment, considering the damage it might earn him, before gently placing his hand on the other's shoulder. His palm was warm against Mello's cold bare skin, and he watched through passive eyes as the blonde jerked away from the touch.

"You're leaving," he stated suddenly, voice bland like no one's his age should ever be.

He felt more than heard the tremor that jarred Mello's body then, but could tell he was probably laughing, even though Near couldn't personally find anything at all humorous about his comment. His pale brows furrowed in a question that Mello couldn't see.

"Yeah," the older boy breathed, at last picking his head up from its confined space against his legs. He looked too worn, too tired. Not at all like the high-strung Mello that he was used to seeing, that he would rather be facing right now.

"Yeah," he said again. "I'll be outta here by the morning."

Out of here, but where was he going? What would he do? He wasn't old enough to make it on his own yet, not yet. These thoughts and more raced through Near's usually pacified mind, and he suddenly began to feel something he hadn't in a long while, not since he'd first arrived at Whammy's House: panic. He felt panicked, backed into a corner. And somehow, he knew this was something that Mello must be entirely too used to by now.

"Where will you go?" Near ventured, hand remaining unmoving against his self-proclaimed rival's shoulder.

"I dunno, I guess I'll see when I get there," was his only offered answer. Near wasn't very satisfied, but he didn't pursue the subject.

They fell into a lull after that, and Near couldn't help but listen to the other's shallow breathing, the way his chest strained to take in gasps of air, struggling past the tension left over from crying so hard. He'd seen Mello cry before, of course, but only once. It was when he had his rosary necklace snapped out when he was playing with some of the other boys of the orphanage. He'd held the broken treasure in his fists, bawling his eyes out (he was only eight at the time) until one of the nice maids that happened to come across him calmed him down, promising that they could fix it.

He had looked so hopeful, eyes wide and bright, carefully watching the woman as she took the necklace from him and lead him down the hallway and away from where Near sat on the rug with his toys. That had also been one of the first times Mello hadn't noticed him, had bypassed him completely in favor of following after the nice lady.

Near sought out the rosary now, hanging loosely from the other's neck just as it had so many years ago, when things had somehow seemed so less complicated. It looked just the same, red beads and thin cross, restrung back into ordinance. He'd never broken it again.

It was a while before Mello seemed to snap back to himself, and when he did, he looked at Near as though he'd gone crazy. "What the hell are you doing in here?" Shaking off the hand on his shoulder, Mello scowled, scooting farther away until his feet dropped down onto the floor and he stood straight. Near didn't say anything, only smiled slightly, though Mello couldn't see it. At least he knew he'd be okay.

"I was worried about you," Near answered honestly, voice as infuriatingly toneless as it always had been.

Mello's eyes widened with what looked like disbelief, then narrowed into suspicious slits. "No you weren't, you just wanted to rub the fact that you're L's real successor into my face again, didn't you? Well, I don't care anymore. Go away."

At least he was back to normal, but Near couldn't help but prefer the quiet, subdued Mello over this thoughtlessly defiant one. If not for the sake of saving himself a headache or two.

Near clambered over to the edge of the bed again, away from where Mello currently stood looking rather detrimental, and made his way back to the door of the room. Mello's attention turned elsewhere as soon as he figured Near was going to leave him alone at last. But just as he began to leave, the smaller boy turned back around, blinking eerily doe-like eyes over at the other boy.

"I never thought of you as a rival, you know," Near said in little more than a murmur, his voice meek. Then his small hand wrapped around the doorknob, and he was gone.

Mello was left alone after that, not feeling at all satisfied with the encounter. That comment had certainly pushed him out of his element, but he attempted to force the sensation away. No, no time for that now. He needed to get ready.


	2. Driven

**Theme:** 03:00 - Determination, especially in matters that seem to hold you back  
**Title:** Driven  
**Rating:** PG  
**Warnings:** Spoilers focused around Mello throughout manga, though very minimum.  
**Disclaimer:** Death Note © Ohba Tsugumi and Obata Takeshi  
**Summary:** They could die tomorrow, he knew. They could drop like a fly at any moment, he knew.

---

Mello often got like this, but Matt couldn't really blame him. Not when every second, every scheme and every step forward counted more than the air they breathed each day. Because no matter what either of them said, Kira still had Mello's name. Kira still had the advantage. Kira still had the mind and the power to kill off the greatest detective in the world.

What were two guys with a crazy fantasy and a hopelessly driven goal to say anything about that?

So when Mello unwrapped what was probably his twentieth chocolate bar, Matt didn't say a word. Even if he had, it wasn't like he'd ever listen. Still, sometimes Matt felt it necessary to put his two cents in every now and again, just in case Mello got a little ahead of himself (which, honestly, was a bit too frequent). As it was, the both of them were running low on supplies. They'd spent so much money divulging in all the best equipment (because damned if Mello wasn't going to _win_ this time, just this once) and all the top-of-the-line technology. There was hardly any left to sate either of their rather gluttonous addictions.

But so what? Mello had the skill and he certainly had the drive, and Matt was stupid enough to follow unquestioningly, so what else was there left to even consider?

They could die tomorrow, he knew. They could die in their sleep (what little they got of even that), drop like a fly without ever awakening, he knew. But he also knew Kira wasn't that underhanded. He'd wait until the perfect, precise moment, wait until he had them on their knees, and then, maybe even then he'd drag it out for awhile longer.

Kira probably couldn't care less about them, really. Matt knew this, and he knew it well. Mello was just in this little race to beat Near to the end, to get revenge on his idol's killer. Maybe there wasn't any justice at all where he was concerned. And Mello probably knew it was unbelievably risky, sticking his neck out relentlessly and making it a habit to take the reckless way out more than once. But that's just the way he was.

Though, maybe, it was good to know he had someone willing to chase him to the ends of the earth – just a companion, despite the numerous efforts they attempted to eat each other's heads off. Someone dedicated enough not to question him when he handed over a pistol and said "Get in, get it done, then run like hell."

Someone willing enough to leave everything behind just to go on a goose chase that likely didn't have an all too pleasant finish.

Still, Matt laughed quietly when Mello tossed him a ten dollar bill, and it was a breathy sound, somehow noteworthy enough to remind Mello that he really should get some shut-eye. Glancing over at the clock proved that easily. Was it already three in the morning? How had it gotten to be so late?

"What'll it be, boss?" Matt asked, but he only received an irritated look in return. He pressed on. "The five-pack or the ten-pack?"

"Ten," Mello clipped, face washed over in the dull blue light of his computer screen, outlining his features darkly. He looked tired, the other could tell, even from half-way across the room.

Matt saluted, uncaring if Mello noticed or not, and then turned to leave.

The room felt barren soon afterward. It was a gaping, swelling sort of sensation and Mello knew instantly that he didn't like it. Teeth dug sharp indentations into the soft, half-melted chocolate bar that hung precariously from his mouth, and then something on the screen caught his eye, and suddenly the prospect of sleep seemed very, very far behind him.


	3. Falling Short of Victory

**Theme: **18:00 - Matters of safety, protection and completion  
**Title: **Falling Short of Victory  
**Rating: **PG  
**Warnings: **General spoilers apply. Slight language.  
**Disclaimer: **Death Note © Ohba Tsugumi and Obata Takeshi  
**Summary: **Wrong, most definitely, and even while Mello kind of wanted these idiot men around him cleaned out by Kira, he still knew it was just that. Wrong.

---

Mello knew these bastards were going to die, and he was glad of it.

The way they slunk about, reeking of murder and overconfidence, chockfull of inflated egos and flaunty prides. The way they soiled the couch with less than arbitrary practices; it all sickened him, and on some level, he hoped Kira would get rid of them. Actually, he was certain Kira would. It was just a matter of time now.

Casting a lazy glance in the direction of the slouching Shinigami, off by the other side of the room and looking mostly bored, Mello broke off a row of chocolate squares with his teeth. The thing really was a sight to see, but he was glad he hadn't been the one to take up ownership of the 'cursed' notebook, instead passing it off to one of the other men. They could die if they wanted just for the chance to use that thing for all he cared.

He already knew so much more than Near did by now, and all be damned if he was ever going to share any bit of information with him.

Still… It was an ever-present reminder in his mind that Near _did_ have that one single photo of him. He'd have to be getting that back, and as quickly as possible. But it wouldn't go without a compromise, Mello knew well. Which could only mean that he was probably going to get stuck selling out some tidbit of info about the notebook and the Shinigami, just so he could get that fucking picture back.

Sometimes he really hated Near.

More than he hated Kira. More than he hated L for going and dying like that. He was bitter over a lot of things, but the fact that Near was so much _better_ than he could ever be really ate away at him.

All he needed to do was catch Kira, kill Kira, whatever it took in order to get back at stupid Near. That way, he'd be on the top once again, laughing down at everyone else who'd ever taunted him (bypassing the fact that no one ever really had, himself aside). Though, catching Kira was going to be pretty hard, even he wasn't ignorant enough to realize that. Hell, the greatest detective in the world hadn't even managed it. Could he?

He had to, just had to.

A loud laugh reached him a moment later, low and scratchy, and Mello grimaced, glancing over at the source of the sound. One of the mafia men was sprawled out on the couch, feet kicked up on the table and arms slung over the back of his seat, snarking over something that the guy across from him had just said. The noise went straight through Mello's head like a bullet, causing it to ache almost immediately. Mello scowled.

Yes, Kira, right now would be a perfect time to rein supremacy.

Head lolled back, Mello's eyes fell into narrowed slits as he stared up at the ceiling, melted, chewed-through chocolate sliding down his throat in the process. It tasted good.

Sometimes, Mello wondered what this Yagami Light looked like. Was he like L, all bent out of shape at the seams and folded in on himself, like a pretzel? Or was he smooth, confident, an icon of perfection? Mello's imagination wasn't that great when it came to this, but he had yet to see 'Him', and he was already bored out of his damn mind, so why not?

Kira would have to be ideal, self-assured, all of that stuff in order to do what he did. That or he was so mentally unstable (which Mello again wouldn't doubt very much either) he didn't know that what he was doing was wrong.

Wrong, most definitely, and even while Mello kind of wanted these idiot men around him cleaned out by Kira, he still knew it was just that. Wrong. He was a killer. He was a killer that needed to be stopped, no matter the cost, like L would believe. Mello would always follow what L believed.

But he still had yet to actually see this Yagami Light in person. He couldn't risk something like that, if what he knew of Kira so far rang true (which he didn't doubt, of course).

Even still, he thought about what it would be like to pass Kira in the streets unseen, just a brush-by and go. Would he even stick out? Probably not; Kira needed anonymity, at least. Would either of them notice? Undoubtedly Kira would be capable of recognizing him. Somehow.

And that was why Mello had himself holed up in this place, to protect himself from the death that L had befallen. He hated it; couldn't even go buy his own damn chocolate, but what could he do? It was that or drop dead.

Yeah, it was much safer this way.

Less than twenty-four hours later, Kira's rein supremacy finally came down upon the base, hitting like wild fire, and Mello watched through narrowed eyes as several of his men collapsed at his very feet.

Time to bail ship.

It was around six o'clock when Matt drove up around the back of the inferno of a building, only to stop right alongside where Mello laid facedown, groaning and spitting out curses in some other language as though his life depended on it, his fingers slack around a cell phone with a cracked screen.

And maybe his life really _did_ depend on it.


	4. M&Ms

**Theme: **24:00 - Writer's Choice  
**Title: **M&Ms  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Warnings: **Language, some hand-licking.  
**Disclaimer: **Death Note © Ohba Tsugumi and Obata Takeshi  
**Summary: **Matt/Mello. To Mello, M&Ms were not chocolate, never would be, and didn't prove to be any sort of delicious treat. Unless Matt was involved.

---

Mello jerked his head up when the small plastic bag landed in his lap, slapping against his thigh. It hung onto the leather-clad limb for about a second before sliding off and hitting the ground soundly, and he blinked away the exhaustion from his eyes, blearily looking over in Matt's direction. "What the fuck? This isn't chocolate." It was already midnight, his computer told him, and Matt should've gotten back with his chocolate at least an hour ago.

Matt, however, had already dropped down onto the couch and grabbed up his controller, gripping it and unpausing whatever game he'd started awhile ago. "Yeah it is."

Gritting his teeth together and squaring his jaw to keep from biting the other's head off, Mello glanced down at the floor, nudging the bag a couple of inches away testily. It rolled a little bit, and sounded like a sack of glass beads. Frowning, Mello bent to grab the brown bag's corner and lifted it up, inspecting it. "This is _not_ chocolate." A fat green thing grinned back at him. It had eyes.

"What, you've never had M&Ms before?"

He didn't say anything to that, turning around in his chair so that he was facing the couch instead of the laptop he'd had open, listing a bunch of meaningless information he'd probably scrolled through a thousand times by now. Scowling unhappily, Mello tore open the bag, and didn't have a moment's warning before its contents spilled all over his hands and onto the carpet.

It seemed like that was enough to catch Matt's attention, though he just gave a sidelong glance before snickering under his breath and focusing back on his game. Mello growled out a gruff "Shut the fuck up", righting the bag that was now only about a good third full. He didn't even make an attempt to clean up the mess now scattered around his feet, sticking one hand into the bag and scooping up a handful of M&Ms.

"Hey, Matt."

Mello set the bag on the table alongside his computer, smirking when the other looked up with impatience.

"Want some?"

"…What? No."

_Too bad_, he thought to himself, flicking one of the small bite-sized candies and sending it airborne, his smirk widening when it hit Matt right in the eye. He'd taken off his goggles when he'd gotten back to the apartment, and they sat atop his head now. Matt flinched and his eye flew shut at the assault.

"What the fuck, Mello!"

The distant sounds of a virtual racecar slamming into a concrete wall, metal screeching and horn blaring, could be heard over the curse. Mello sat back, one arm hooked over the backrest of his chair, and he was grinning almost maliciously as he flicked another one, this time blue. It hit his cheek, and Matt swatted at it like it was a mosquito.

"Stop it!"

"This isn't chocolate, Matt," Mello repeated, throwing a few more at Matt and reveling in the way he attempted to duck for cover.

"It's not my fault! They didn't get--" another one struck his forehead, "the damned shipment of--" another one hit his nose, "chocolate bars in yet!"

This time, Mello popped a few of the M&Ms into his own mouth, chewing down on them as he picked up the attack on the other once more, bearing his teeth in delight when Matt stared at him in exaggerated horror.

"You bastard!"

Flinging several M&Ms in retaliation of the insult, Mello raised a brow when a few of the candies landed inside of Matt's mouth instead of down his shirt like the others mostly had. Matt ate them huffily, swallowing and looking sullen. "I don't even like chocolate…"

"Hey, well. This isn't chocolate." Before he could chuck the handful of M&Ms he had gathered in his hand, Matt lunged, tackling Mello from his chair and down onto the floor. The floor slammed against Mello's back and his smirk twisted in aggravation, a dull throb of pain pulsing through his body.

"Oh no, you're not getting away with that again." It took him a moment to notice that Matt's voice was right next to his ear, practically breathing into it, and when he tried to knee him off, the gamer only cackled and pinned Mello down with more force.

Mello's hand flexed from where it was being held above his head, his palm still cradling a number of M&Ms, and he growled low in his throat. "Matt, get the fuck off of me."

There was no answer but for the warm breath occasionally tickling his ear and Mello narrowed his eyes to fine slits that shone like blades in the dimly lit apartment. He was just about to spit out a few more curses and maybe some questions as to just what the hell Matt was doing, when he felt the other shift, the breath leave his skin, and then something wet touched his palm.

Mello thrashed a little bit, but didn't get himself anywhere. "What the fuck, Matt!" It took him a good second to realize that Matt was eating the M&Ms right out of his hand, and when it dawned on him, Mello made a disturbed face. "What are you, a dog?"

But he couldn't help the rush of heat that shot straight to his groin when Matt's teeth scraped against the base of his palm, or when Matt's mouth encased one of his fingers even after the chocolate had all been eaten up. Still, he scowled, refusing to acknowledge the fact that, yes, it did feel good. When Matt finally drew back, shifting around again and releasing Mello, he wore a shit-eating grin that made Mello glower and shove him as far away as he could. He then proceeded to scrub his palm clean on the leg of his leather pants.

"You're insane."

Matt laughed in return, standing up and moving back to the couch, his boots crunching over the M&Ms and probably smushing them down into the carpet even more. "You love it."


End file.
